Abstinence
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: Merry Christmas, all you 411 fans! Have some lemon. Because Vexen deserved it. 411, lemon.


He'd decided to give up Vexen for good nearly a month ago, now.

It wasn't easy; there was always something addictive about his thin, elongated limbs and pale skin, his burning green eyes like jade - no, like poisonous, lethal acid - and hair so long it was though he had deliberately fashioned it so for the sole purpose of giving Marluxia perfect leeway to tug and pull and grasp... But the Assassin, at the end of November or so (the days more or less blurred into one in the stale nothingess of the World that Never Was), had decided that things had gone on too long and needed to stop.  
Vexen, for one thing, was changing. No more was he a helpless toy in Marluxia's arms, writhing and moaning with all control lost. As of late, his groans had been more irritated complaints than shameful pleasure. He'd become so _demanding_, as though he even deserved a say in what even Marluxia wouldn't dare call a relationship. Their sexual encounters were now no longer arousing, or exciting, just... _boring_. Like Vexen himself when he was allowed to do as he pleased.

So with Larxene's help, Marluxia had just upped and left. He was always the one to go to Vexen, anyway; they rarely saw each other outside the backdrops of their meetings in the laboratories or sometimes Vexen's room, and even rarer spoke. So he was hardly surprised that suddenly, Vexen was just gone from his life. At first he felt even more empty than before without feeling those sharp hipbones arch against him, bony knees drawn up close to his body, every spasmodic jolt that cued a perfect, untimely release.  
Vexen's stamina had never been terribly good.  
Larxene had helped with that, she was all crackling lightning and though she wasn't as sharp or stiff as Vexen had been, her soft curves and fluid movements paired with long, scratching nails and terrifying jolts of electricity soon became as much of a release as Vexen. It was a battle to stay in control, not a chore.

A month later and Marluxia had almost forgotten Vexen entirely. Nobodies didn't dream and it was easy to train the mind to ignore certain thoughts entirely. Still, it were on nights like these when he was lying in bed alone that he sometimes wished for something more than Larxene's shock-play. Problem was, he didn't know what. Not something softer - Larxene's perfect skin was as smooth as any - and not something slower because without that unpredictable intensity, he'd just get bored. Still.  
It was quite a while before Marluxia realised that he wasn't alone. Somebody was breathing, almost but not quite in time with him; either they weren't trying as hard as they could not to be noticed, or they were trying and simply weren't terribly experienced. This didn't narrow down the field much.  
"Larxene?" Marluxia hazarded, his voice pathetically small in the darkness. There was a chuckle, instantly establishing the intruder's identity. Vexen.  
"You didn't think you'd actually won, did you?"  
From the direction of the voice, Marluxia could, after a little peering, make out a tall, slim figure by the doorway. Not black. Pale.  
"What are you implying by that?" He asked lowly, feeling the bedsheets rustle around him as he sat up, eyes narrowed in an effort to make out more of Vexen's body in the darkness. His arms were crossed. He could see little else.  
Another short laugh.  
"You thought you could just leave? And that that would be that?"  
"We're Nobodies, Vexen-"  
"Don't give me that bullshit."  
Marluxia had heard plenty of insults from Vexen's lips, but never once had he used such a profanity. Unlike Larxene whose every other word was foul, thus ruining all momentum, the effect from the well-spoken - or if not well spoken, well censored - Vexen was quite spectacular.  
By quite spectacular, that was to mean that it stalled the Assassin entirely.  
So Vexen continued.  
"Do you honestly think that there was never any emotional connection between the two of us, Marluxia? Even you must admit that there was more to us than met the eye,"  
Marluxia was tempted to bite back with a petty "No," but something in Vexen's tone - or maybe simply the words he said - that stopped him. Vexen truly believed in the emotionless existence of Nobodies. Nothing could convince him otherwise. Surely...? There were not-quite-delicate-enough footsteps, and then gentle light filled the room as Vexen waved his hand over one of Marluxia's motion-sensitive bedside lights. And there, standing tall next to his bed, was a beautiful, naked creature, all angles softened to the perfect degree by the light. His eyes, the pink haired man dully noted, were as filled with grim determination as ever. But what was different was that he was calm. Terrifyingly calm.  
Marluxia swallowed thickly.  
"What do you want?"  
Vexen looked thoughtfully at the lamp, no doubt mapping the electrical circuits inside in his mind.  
"What have any of us ever wanted?"  
"That was less than unhelpful." Marluxia muttered.  
Vexen sighed, and with one surreptitious glance to check where Marluxia's hands might be, his mouth suddenly crashed into his.  
Marluxia didn't even have a moment to think as bony fingers curled around his wrists, digging into the finely toned flesh as Vexen scrambled onto the bed to sit astride him, pinning him down.  
"Is that helpful enough for you or do I need to state my wishes explicitly?" He hissed as they broke apart, Marluxia already panting as much from surprise as anything.  
"Explicit is fine," He gasped, hands already seeking a way out of Vexen's grip to hold the man himself. Shouldn't be too hard to flip him over; even if they fell off the bed Marluxia would just take him on the floor. His body was already reacting just the same: just the same as the very first night, as though no time had passed and he'd never left Vexen at all.  
The other man gave out a little hmph and broke his hold on Marluxia just for a minute to roughly grab his upper arms instead, forcing him down. Green eyes blazed just the same, but his teeth were bared quite unlike anything Marluxia ever remembered.  
The Assassin let himself be manhandled; he'd have plenty of time to take control of the situation later. It was a pleasant surprise to find Vexen tugging at the buttons on his pyjamas with his mouth, until he spat something out and Marluxia realised that it was one of the buttons.  
"Stop that," He ordered. He liked those pyjamas. Vexen didn't listen, pulling the next button off with more force.  
"Oh, fuck it."  
He gave up and simply grabbed the collar and ripped the shirt open, callously disregarding the fine craftsmanship of the garment. Marluxia seized the opportunity to place his own crushing hold on Vexen's shoulders to push him down where he belonged.  
Vexen fired off a stunning, downright obnoxious glare, and pressed against Marluxia with all the force he could summon - it was enough to match the Assassin.  
"Not this time."  
Marluxia was stunned, and it wasn't just because suddenly after a month of abstinence from that elfin, ethereal body it was pressing itself against him, or the fingers trailing down his bared chest, leaving tingling, needy sensations in their wake. It was because if there was one thing that Vexen _wasn't_, it was dominant. The man might have had the willpower, but he didn't know _how_; a single lingering kiss was enough to leave him flustered and helpless.  
Larxene was a bit of a bother when it came to dominance, but Marluxia knew how to crack her - she was a female, after all, and in the end there was little she could do but allow Marluxia the control he craved. She didn't just _sit _there, pinning him down with as much a captivating glare as physical touch, and wait for him to break.  
With a jolt, Marluxia realised that he had no control whatsoever. He hissed, struggling, but Vexen just smiled - a horrible, crooked smile that was nonetheless helplessly arousing - and pressed him down into the pillows. Another painfully blunt kiss that left the taste of blood on his lips.  
"You have missed me, dearest," He stated, nose half an inch from his. Marluxia snapped at him, unable to summon up words. "Dearest" was _his_ pet name for _Vexen_, and a condescending one at that, and how dare the other man decide his own feelings so carelessly!  
But he found himself unable to move, even as Vexen receded a little to tug at the hem of his trousers. He was waiting, he tried to convince himself. For Vexen to roll over and allow things to continue as they should have.  
Of course he didn't. Suddenly Marluxia was bared completely, and Vexen had leaned down to kiss - and bite - his stomach, leaving the hot rush of arousal behind at every crimson mark he left there.  
There was the flash of Darkness and then in Vexen's hands was a small, delicately crafted bottle. Of course, Marluxia thought giddily. Vexen was here to pleasure him because Vexen was a stumbling maiden and didn't know any different. He relaxed into the bedding and let him get on with it. So easy; not even a month and he was back with lavish affections to be poured onto him. He should have been able to guess. And according perfectly to his predictions, Vexen was pouring the liquid into his hands, reaching out to take Marluxia's erection in his hands. The Assassin bit back a moan of pleasure, barely registering that Vexen was watching him with careful, calculative eyes.  
It was when Vexen's hand wandered elsewhere that Marluxia gave out a startled hiss, pushing himself away.  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
"You didn't honestly think that I'd simply bend over like the common whore you expect me do be, did you?" Vexen fired back, leaning forwards to bite none-too-gently at Marluxia's neck, at the same time well lubricated fingers digging their way inside.  
Marluxia let out an undignified squeal, but his hands refused to co-operate and push Vexen away. It elicited a laugh from the Academic.  
"Who's inexperienced now...?"  
The subtle insult had Marluxia growling with irritation as Vexen slipped another finger inside, but somehow through the dizzying discomfort and pleasure he knew that that was exactly the response Vexen wanted.  
Marluxia felt so helpless, so used, so.... so _aroused_.

Vexen pulled out and slid his palm down the length of Marluxia's thigh to the crook of his knee, laughing as the other man bucked and gasped against his touch. So _easy_... He should have done this months ago. He quickly slicked his own length with lubricant, more out of necessity than for personal gratification. He didn't want to hurt Marluxia too much. With one last glance at Marluxia's harrowed, horrified expression, he leaned forwards and pressed himself deep inside.  
"This," He said lowly, leaning forwards until he could feel each panting breath from the other man against his face, just to see if Marluxia really was that flexible, "Is for all the times that you thought you could just take whatever you wanted from _me_."  
Marluxia didn't reply, just managing to lick his lips - as though he were one of such a nervous disposition - and leaning upwards to give Vexen a needy kiss. His knee was pressed against his shoulder, and Vexen was holding his other leg flat against the mattress - it must have hurt, a lot. And yet Marluxia still moaned with helpless satisfaction, arching his back in such a brilliant and beautiful way... curious.

Vexen set a hard pace, slamming into Marluxia with nothing less than a personal vendetta, but somehow he was beyond the point of caring now. The pain was quite unlike anything he'd ever previously experienced, but at the same time it was glorious and beautiful and made him feel so _whole_. He hardly registered Vexen tensing against him with a moan, or the warm and cold flutter that spread through his own stomach, until he realised that he had forgotten, somewhere along the line, to breathe.  
Vexen made a move as though to pull away, but Marluxia was quick to wrap his arms around the other man and pull him close.  
"Don't," He managed; "Don't you dare move."  
Vexen moaned a little in protest and waved vaguely at the bedside lamp. Darkness enshrouded them, and every sound - their breaths tumbling over one another, the gentle rustle of forgotten bedsheets - was amplified to twenty times the volume.  
Eventually, Marluxia swallowed thickly one last time.  
"Don't think that this has in any way given you the upper hand."  
Vexen scoffed.  
"Just admit it," He said, voice hoarse, "You enjoyed that."  
Like Vexen had any authority to decide that kind of - it was true, Marluxia had to admit to himself.  
"That's not the point."  
"Yes it is."  
"... Shut up."  
"I wasn't the one moaning like a cat in heat."  
"Yes, you were."  
There was a pause.  
"No, that was you," Vexen said firmly, wriggling into a more comfortable position atop Marluxia.  
"I was totally in control of the situation, thank you very much."  
Vexen shoved the other man's leg out of the way, vaguely satisfied at the yelp it provoked. "Marluxia," He replied tiredly, burying his face in pink hair. "I just _topped_ you."  
Apparently, Marluxia was already asleep.


End file.
